Going Deep For You!

Natural Insemination Ch. 05

This is a continuation of the previous chapter of the story “Natural Insemination.” It is recommended the chapters be read in sequence to properly describe the scene and introduce the characters. None of the characters are real, and this is purely a work of fiction with no basis in actual medical fact. Constructive comments and suggestions welcomed.

It proved a lot easier than I ever expected. My husband agreed after a mere 5 weeks of going without.

It wasn’t the first time I withheld sex from him, but certainly the longest. Many times over the last few weeks I wanted to give in. It felt unnatural to hold out for so long, almost cruel how I behaved towards him. I manipulated him with sex, which was something I didn’t normally do, at least not on such a grand scale. I had done it before, of course, because every woman does it, but those were mild compared to what I put him through over the last 5 weeks. It was a good thing that the doctor gave me a hint of what I was missing. My experience with Richard opened my eyes. It gave me the strength to hold out. His cock reminded me of the grand prize.

My husband resisted, naturally, almost pleaded with me to come back early to bed or fool around early in the morning on weekends. At first, he was easy to refuse. I really was angry at him for skipping our appointment. I told him he had embarrassed me, even humiliated me in front of the doctor, which was all true. And then it was my time of the month, which effectively gave me a few extra days.

The last two weeks were the most difficult. I had to fight my natural instincts. I had to pretend I wasn’t interested in having sex anymore. The worst part was that I really needed it, even if it was only my husband. Richard had made me horny as hell. It was as if his cock had injected me with some kind of drug. On some nights I was willing to fuck almost anything.

“What’s the point?” I feigned disinterest instead. “When we know it won’t work?”

Every time I rejected him, again and again, even when I could make out the upright bulge in his pajamas. It made me feel cheap, all the trickery and the lies. It was cruel, almost a mean thing for me to do. It felt like I was taking advantage of him, which I guess I was. It also went against everything I was raised to believe. A wife was supposed to keep her husband happy, or so my mother taught me when I was young. Plus, I have to admit, making him happy genuinely made me feel happy too, but lately I looked upon my husband more as the enemy.

The last two weeks were the hardest for him too, especially the first evening I walked into the living room wearing the little black teddy, a negligee from a few years before. I didn’t buy it. I didn’t have to. My husband had actually purchased it himself, brought it back with him from some kind of business trip. He and a couple co-workers supposedly drove to some vendor who sold x-ray machines for inspecting industrial welds. I never really did understand any of the details, but I suspect they also went to an x-rated lingerie party along the way. He never admitted it, but I always suspected it, so I didn’t wear the negligee much after that.

“Oh, this old thing,” I now had an opportunity to turn the tables and use the teddy against him. “I just figured I might as well get some use out of it,” I pretended to be unconcerned when I sat down on the sofa across from him.

He immediately came over and sat up close, put his arm around me, and acted all lovey-dovey to me. He even offered to change the channel away from the football game he was watching. A rare occurrence; perhaps the first time ever! I could tell he was horny. He was even hornier than me.

“No, that’s all right,” I first rejected his offer to change the channel and then further rejected his offer to come back early to bed. “I’d like to finish this chapter,” I went right on reading my book instead.

I never did finish the chapter. I read the words, but that doesn’t mean I finished it. They were just letters haphazardly arranged into sentences on a page. I couldn’t keep my concentration. The story didn’t make any sense. All I could think about was getting fucked. Even better, I wanted Richard to fuck me.

But as bad as I felt, I know he felt a lot worse. He was desperate, horny too, which I could tell by the way he kept glancing over to me and the negligee. I have to admit, my husband knows how to pick out sexy lingerie. The little black thing left little to the imagination. If worn in public, I would have been arrested for indecent exposure. Around the house, I worried about someone looking in through the window or come knocking at the front door. I’m sure my husband could make out the protrusion of my hard nipples. He maybe could even see their outline through the sheer fabric.

For the last week, I continued to wear the negligee every-other night to bed. The poor guy could hardly stand it. One time he even went to take a shower before coming to bed. A cold shower, I have no doubt. I could have used the equivalent of a cold shower myself. The negligee did little to relieve my own excitement.

In the end, I naturally rewarded him after he finally agreed to the treatment. Not right away, but the next night. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to manipulate him, so I waited almost 24 hours more, the next night, and only after phoning Dr. Palin with the exciting news. The wait proved excruciating, especially after her receptionist, Jason, answered the phone. I nearly had an orgasm at the sound of his voice. I wondered if I might even get to experience him too, or maybe the doctor might choose him instead of Richard. The potential sex only served to heighten my arousal even more.

It wasn’t much of a fuck. I mean my husband, of course, after I finally gave in. It was even quicker than usual. I’m sure part of the problem came from the fact I withheld it from him for so long. He was hot and horny, a lot more so than usual, desperate to get me naked and then stick his short length inside. It took only a few thrusts, and he was done. He left me feeling as if I had hardly participated.

A bigger part of the problem came from Richard and what he had done to me. Experiencing a man of such giant proportions made me appreciate how truly pathetic my own husband really was. I longed for a double orgasm, and then the sight of all that spurting cum as well. Plus, I couldn’t help but wonder if part of it could have been a physical change in me. Specifically, I wondered if Richard’s large size might have changed me down there, opened me up, stretched me down there so that sex with any normal-sized male would never feel as intense. Perhaps sex with my husband would never be the same again.

Whatever the reason and however I felt, my husband eventually gave his agreement. I quick made an appointment with Dr. Palin for later in the week. I would have made it sooner, like first thing the next morning, but I needed my husband to come along. I just hope he won’t again change his mind at the last moment.

* * * * *

I almost let out a gasp when I see Richard sitting once again behind the reception counter. Memories immediately return of our previous encounter, of how he felt inside me, and then what I did to him in the end too. It makes me feel like such a whore, but a satisfied whore, and then a dirty little thought enters my mind. Well, not so little, I guess, for I imagine him sitting behind the desk without wearing any pants or shorts. I imagine him bottomless, fully exposed down there, greeting patients in a half-naked condition.

“Why don’t you go have a seat,” I quick regain my composure and step in front of my husband. “I’ll check us in, and it looks like they’re watching some game.”

Two other men already sit in the reception area. It looks a lot like last time, except for some baseball game playing on a flat panel TV hanging on the wall. My husband immediately takes notice of the game. He willingly agrees with my idea.

I, meanwhile, can’t help but wonder about the wives of the two men watching the game. Are they married? Did they bring wives along? Most important, I wonder what the wives might be experiencing only a short distance away.

“Hello there, Katie,” Richard brings me out of my daydream.

“Hi,” I weekly answer in return.

I smile at him, and he smiles back. His smile greatly calms me. It deadens the initial surprise; slows down my racing heart. It is as if the two of us share a great secret, a secret even my husband doesn’t know. I suddenly feel close to him, like a close friend.

Stepping up to the counter, I lean over much the same way I did so many weeks ago. I do it without thinking. I suppose I also do it because I want to somehow give him a reward for how good he made me feel that day. Today I wear a summer dress. It comes down low in front, too low to be appropriate to wear to work. I put it on at home and after leaving work early to make it to the doctor’s appointment on time. Leaning over the counter, I show him cleavage. I give him a reminder of what he saw so many weeks ago.

“I heard you got your husband to agree,” He starts talking when I fail to say anything. “I can’t wait.”

I blush with embarrassment at his admission. “Me too,” I whisper back, being careful not to let my husband overhear. Already he sits with the others. I hear the three of them joke around in the background, asking the score, and then criticizing the coach and then some of the players. It all sounds like typical guy stuff. I, meanwhile, occupy myself with a more interesting sport.

“I heard you would be cuming,” Richard whispers back to me. I notice the way he pronounces the word too.

“I hope I do,” I nod. “And you too.”

In fact, I hope to make him cum again, just like last time. Memories of our previous encounter return. I can’t wait to make him cum again, but then wonder if he will be the one the doctor selects for me. I certainly hope so. I wonder if I will get to choose.

“So that’s your husband?” Richard looks past me to take a glance at the man sitting on the couch. “Seems like a decent enough guy.”

“He is,” I take a glance too. “He’s a good husband, but just not able to, you know…” I let me words trail off.

Richard nods in understanding. Of course he knows. He knows all about my husband. I suspect the doctor told him all about my husband’s inadequate size.

“Does he know?” He asks next.

“Know what?” I am momentarily confused.

“You know,” He speaks as if I should already know what he talks about. “Does he know that we fucked?”

I jump with a start. “Not so loud,” I warn. He says it in a whisper. There’s no way my husband could overhear, not over the TV, but I can’t help but worry anyway.

I also jump at what he reminds me of. What he speaks is true. We have fucked. And not just any fuck, but the best fuck of my life. I think of the orgasms, and then I think of the way he felt up my heavy boobs. I’ve fucked a man other than my husband, and now I’m talking to the man while my husband sits only a few feet away.

“I’ll take that to mean a no,” Richard accurately surmises.

“Of course he doesn’t know,” I assure him. “I would never tell him something like that.”

“So I guess he doesn’t know how I cummed all over you either,” He asks in a softer voice. “Or the way you showed me your tits?”

His questions excite me. I let out a sigh as I recall the long jets of cum, my boobs in his hands, and then his giant cock pulsing in my hand. Memories return of his convulsing cock and the way it felt in my hand when he shot off. It would be a lot of fun to feel it again. I can’t wait.

“He doesn’t know yet,” I answer a few seconds later and after recovering from the initial surprise. “But soon he will!”

Indeed, my husband will know. He will know I am being fucked by another man. He will even give me his permission. All he needs to do is tell the doctor.

“I’m glad you got him to agree,” Richard turns to the computer and types something in. “I’ll tell the doctor you are here. It should be about ten minutes.”

* * * * *

She appears much the same as a week ago: smart business suit, glasses, and hair bunched up on the top of her head like a woman firmly in control. Richard first escorted us back to her office. I was actually disappointed when he stepped out into the reception area wearing clothes below the waist.

Dr. Palin walks in about a minute later carrying a notepad and a folder that I assume must contain our medical records. “I heard you made your decision,” She goes direct to the point. No introductions. No greetings. She doesn’t even shake our hands, but attacks the problem directly, as if too busy with her other patients to waste time with pleasantries. She asks what I so much want to ask my husband too.

“First, a few questions if you don’t mind,” He initially disappoints me.

I scarf at him, want to yell at him, but hold back. He told me he would agree to the procedure. I just want him to tell the doctor, but now he seems to have second thoughts.

“Of course,” Dr. Palin seems unperturbed by his hesitation. She places the folder down on the desk and takes a seat down in her chair. “That’s why I’m here! To answer questions from both of you,” She turns to me as she says it, offering me the opportunity to ask questions too.

Predictably, my husband goes first. “I’m concerned about my wife’s safety,” He starts immediately. “Is there any chance of her being injured during any of these, as you call them, treatments?” He says the last word with distain, as if he doesn’t fully believe it.

“Injured?” The Doctor almost laughs back. “Now why would she be injured? Have you ever heard of a woman being physically injured in the act of intercourse?”

“If she was a virgin, maybe,” The doctor answers the question for him. “But once a woman is opened, there is no longer any pain, even if she is opened wider and deeper than ever before.”

Her words remind me of Richard and what he already did to me. Wider and deeper, yes, I already know.

“But she is a small woman,” My husband regains his composure and points out. “I just thought, you know, a smaller woman could get injured, and she isn’t accustomed to taking such large sizes.”

He indirectly references his own small size, which I find interesting. It appears he has finally faced the facts. It took several weeks to do so, but now he appears to finally acknowledge his small size.

The Doctor assures us we don’t need to worry about injury. The males performing the insemination procedure have extensive experience. Most have impregnated near a hundred women, some a lot more, and so far not a single woman has been injured.

Her mention of experience makes me wonder how much of this experience they might pass on to me. I think of all the new positions, and then am reminded of what I accidently saw the last time I came to her office, of the woman riding the male from above. Whatever male they choose for me will almost certainly be able to teach me new things, new positions I never tried before. I look forward to it. I wish my husband would just agree so I could experience it.

“So you see, her diminutive size won’t make any difference,” She concludes. “Even a petite woman can take ten or eleven inches of male flesh, and your wife isn’t exactly petite. I would say she should be able to take about a foot-long appendage with little problem.”

My eyes widen at her remark. A foot-long? Richard was plenty big enough. I have a hard time believing any guy could ever get that large, much less my own ability to take him inside.

“But if you are still worried,” The Doctor adds in the next breath. “There is always the option of you being present during the procedure.”

“What?” Both my husband and I simultaneously say the word. My husband present? During the procedure? This would mean my husband would have to watch. He would have to watch me getting fucked by another man.

“Now wait a minute,” He thankfully rejects.

“Just a suggestion,” The Doctor holds up her hands as if in surrender. “I’m often surprised by the number of husbands who get aroused by the idea of watching their wives. And a lot of wives don’t mind being watched either,” She laughs after she says it.

I can’t help but laugh along with her. The idea sounds ridiculous. I have a hard time imagining my husband in the same room with me. No way could he stand by and watch, not while I was having sex with another man. He normally gets jealous just when a guy comes up to me at a bar and starts making small talk. It’s a good thing he wasn’t around 5 weeks ago with Richard. He would have pulled the guy away. He probably would have tried to start a fight, maybe even killed him right there, or at least try to kill him after witnessing my orgasm, much less my second orgasm.

But then at the same time, a strange twinge of excitement rushes over me too. Having him witness my ecstasy at the cock of another man would certainly make him embarrassed, put him in his place. This shouldn’t excite me, I know, but for some reason it does anyway. I don’t know why. I can’t explain it.

“Anything else you have questions about?” The Doctor asks before I can think about it too much. She looks at her watch as she asks it, gives the impression of a busy woman. She doesn’t have all day to sit around and talk with us.

“And what about the frequency and number of these treatments?” My husband gets the hint and immediately takes her up on her offer. “You mentioned two weeks worth of treatments?”

“Actually, three weeks,” She thankfully corrects him.

“Three weeks then,” He accepts. “And you mentioned twice per day too. Isn’t that a bit extreme? Wouldn’t it be better to time it with, you know, her time?” He says it without actually saying it. He has always been hesitant to say it.

“You mean her menstrual period?” The Doctor must say it for him.

“Yes, that,” he nods in response.

“Good question,” She admits he has a good point, but then goes on to explain how she prefers to give her patients the best possible chance of getting pregnant, and the only way to do that is with repeated treatments. And unlike most medical treatments, the drugs to be used on me have few side effects. They aren’t dangerous. They certainly are not addictive, so a large number of treatments will have no ill effects. She also reminds him of the fact we have already tried the slow and gradual approach. Now is the time to get serious.

“I want to inundate her with sperm,” The doctor makes her opinion obvious. “I want it to be literally over-flowing out of her. I want your wife covered with spunk.”

Her abrupt description reminds me of Richard and the way he really did cover me. Memories return of his spurting cock, and then of his abundant quantity. Afterwards I took a shower to clean up before I could get dressed again. Richard showed me the way to a small shower out the back door of the treatment room. I recall him also saying he couldn’t wait to someday take a shower with me.

“Don’t you want your wife to get the best possible treatment?” The Doctor concludes her point by throwing the question back in his lap. “Don’t you want her to have the best possible chance of getting pregnant?”

“Yes, but,” he can barely get it out.

“Isn’t that why you are here?” Her imposing presence sounds above his meek objections. “Why else go through all this trouble? Why else have your wife go through the procedure at all?”

“It just seems a bit extreme,” He finally gets out. “I expected only one time.”

Dr. Palin almost laughs at his remark. “Few pregnancies occur after only a single act of intercourse. I’m afraid it almost always takes repeated attempts.”

“But we don’t even know if she is the problem,” He regains his composure and takes a glance in my direction. “What if I am the problem? She could get pregnant after just one attempt. All the repeated treatments could be for nothing.”

“You have a point,” The doctor again agrees with him, but only initially, and then points out the error of his logic. She explains it to him by comparing my condition to something he can better relate to. She actually compares me to an automobile.

“Take a rough running engine,” She uses as an example. “It could be caused by low octane fuel, but then maybe the fuel pump is about to fail, or maybe the engine has a partially clogged fuel injector. It could also be from a bad fuel line, charcoal canister, or maybe you have a bad plug.”

Her knowledge of engine mechanics is impressive. Not that I would know, but my husband nods with her every remark. I can tell by his reaction that he understands perfectly.

“Medicine can be very much like engine mechanics, except we can’t easily open the hood to take a look at the inner mechanics,” She goes on to explain. “The problem could be a fuel line, for instance, which would be equivalent to a blocked tube in your scrotal sac. Would you want us to open the hood, so to speak, give you an operation to take a closer look?”

“Oh no!” My husband squirms in his chair in reaction to her proposal.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” She acknowledges his predictable response. “Thus you see the problem. Your wife’s inability to conceive children could be caused by one of several potential problems. We could proceed in a very methodical method and eliminate one problem at a time, but this would take a long time, require several operations, and be very uncomfortable for both you and your wife. It would also involve some pain, for instance, if we operated on your scrotal sack.”

Again he squirms in his chair.

“That is why I prefer a brute force approach,” She sits back up in her chair to indicate the completion of her little speech. “My approach is safe, easy, and doesn’t involve any pain on the part of anyone. It’s also perfectly natural. It has a proven track record and is highly effective. The only uncomfortable aspect is the fact you must allow your wife to receive sexual intercourse from other men. That is, you must allow your wife to be fucked, in common language, to be repeatedly fucked by other men.”

Her use of the more vulgar term gives me a start. I concentrate mostly on the word: fucked. I concentrate on it so hard that I miss the rest of what she tries to tell me. All I can think of is Richard and how good it felt when he fucked me harder and longer than I had ever been fucked before.

“Besides, what difference does it really matter if your wife has intercourse with just one man or with several?” The doctor goes on with her argument while I recall the experience with Richard.

“The first time is usually the hardest for the husband,” She explains to him. “But soon it will seem almost second nature to you. You may have already met the two husbands out in the waiting room when you arrived?” She asks in the form of a question.

He silently nods his head.

“Well, their wives are receiving their treatment right now,” She looks at her watch to check. “Actually, the first one should be about done by now, but in any case I hope you noticed how comfortable and normal they both behaved. Their masculinity was not affected. They were still watching sports on the TV. I believe they were watching the baseball playoffs.”

“Well, yes,” My husband agrees out loud.

“Several?” I quietly say at the same time. My eyes open wide. I belatedly understand her words. I say almost under my breath, too soft for them to notice.

“I guess you do have a point,” My husband speaks over me. The two of them continue their conversation as though I never said anything at all. “I suppose I should just face the facts. I guess it would be all right if she went through with it.”

Finally, he agrees. He finally gives his approval, but I hardly hear him.

“Several?” I question louder the second time. “Hold on! You said several,” I look up to see Dr. Palin already standing up from her chair.

“Of course,” She looks back down on me as if it should be obvious.

“But that means more than one?” I sit stupefied. “But that would mean, you know, more than one!” I say it with shock. Up until now I had assumed the doctor would simply pick out one of the men for me, but she suggests the “treatments” might actually come from different men. I can’t believe the possibility.

“Why, of course!” She expresses in a matter-of-fact tone, as if it should be perfectly obvious to me. “There naturally will be more than one male performing the procedure. If there was only one, then the father of your eventual baby would be known, and that would lead to all sorts of problems with paternity lawsuits and whatever.” She throws up her hand in exasperation. “Multiple males are a better option, as both of you must see.

I stop breathing. I hear the words but can’t quite believe what she says. Not just one? Multiple males? The words echo in my brain. I suddenly realize I will be fucked by more than one man, by more than just Richard. That means Richard will almost certainly be one of the men to fuck me; probably Jason too. I look to my husband in an attempt to gage his reaction, but he doesn’t appear to be particularly bothered by it. If anything, I sense relief from him.

“I suppose that would prevent any lasting relationships from forming,” He says to my surprise.

“That too!” The doctor agrees with him. “The only relationships will be sexual. To your wife, the males will be nothing but tools. They will be objects for her to use. Pardon my abruptness, but they will be nothing more than cocks for her to use. She will use them for what they were intended to be used for, and then she will turn around and discard the men like she would a piece of trash.”

I have a hard time breathing. Her words echo back and forth in my head: Tool? Object? Trash? Her choice of words excites me. They sound so arousing. I’ve heard them before, but only in relation to women. I’ve read about women who were sold into sexual bondage, who became pleasure slaves to rich sheiks or kings. Having the same term refer to a man sounds strange, especially to a man like Richard. He’s so much stronger than me. He could easily throw me aside if he wanted. Richard could never be a slave, much less a pleasure slave to someone like me, yet at the same time he would be.

“We’ll put your wife on a schedule where she receives treatment from a different male each day,” The doctor speaks mostly to my husband. “That will make it more difficult to determine who the real father might be. Later on, if there is any particular male she likes more than the others, we’ll put him on the schedule more often. Likewise, if there is any male she doesn’t care for, anyone who maybe plays too rough for her taste, then we can take him off the schedule too.”

I briefly consider DNA testing and then realize how ridiculous her reasoning sounds. If I really wanted to find out the real father of any potential child, then I would only need to order up a DNA test to find out, but thankfully my husband appears ignorant of this.

“I guess that makes sense,” He stupidly agrees instead. He fails to notice the heat radiating off my body, the perspiration forming on my brow. He fails to comprehend the significance of what the Doctor tells us.

“Now I need to go on to see one more patient who should already be patiently waiting for me,” She does a quick check of her watch once again. “Stop by the front desk to arrange the specifics. My receptionist will have a few medical release forms you will need to sign. He’ll also assist you in the particulars, such as with scheduling. We may not be able to get you started right away, but I would expect in the next month or two.”

Her mention of the receptionist gets me excited, but then the delay of a month or two disappoints. I was hoping to start now, like maybe even today, but then realize of course I will have to wait. I’m not her only patient. Her men are limited in how many sessions they can have in one day.

Before I realize it, she’s already gone. I still sit in the chair, probably looking stupid, with my husband standing and ready to go. It has already taken longer than expected, and then I think of meeting with Richard once again before I have to go.

* * * * *

I am happy to see Richard once again sitting behind the counter when we walk back out into the reception area. The flat-screen television monitor continues to display the game. Only one of the husbands remains. The other must have finished, I realize, or rather his wife finished with her treatment. We’ve been talking to the doctor for a long while. I’m surprised both men haven’t left by now.

“You want me to handle this?” I look to Richard and then to the television monitor. “There’s probably not much for you to do anyway. I’ll just see when they want me to start.”

My husband hesitates. He looks to the counter to his right and then up to the game on his left. He looks as if he weighs a difficult decision.

I, meanwhile, hold my breath. I wait with anxious anticipation. Nervous thoughts come to mind. What if I let something slip in front of Richard? Or what if Richard mentions what we did? It could ruin all my plans. My husband could still change his mind. He could still drag me out of the office.

“If you still want to go through with it?” He eventually asks with a glimmer of doubt sounding in his voice. “Are you still sure about this?”

“I’m willing to give it a try,” I force myself to act as if being fucked by a handsome young man with an oversized cock will be a great sacrifice. “I really don’t think it will be so bad. The first time will be the worse, just like the doctor said, but then I’m sure it will get easier.”

Actually, I hope it never gets any easier. I want it to always feel like the first time, the same way it did 5 weeks ago when Richard showed me what I was missing. Now I want to know what else I might have been missing, and then there are all those other men to show me more.

“I suppose she could be right,” My husband eventually comes around. “How bad can it really be?”

He asks while looking at the one remaining husband still watching the game. The stranger watches intently, apparently not bothered at all by the fact his wife is getting fucked in one of the rooms behind us. This gives me an idea, and I decide to take advantage of it.

“He doesn’t seem too concerned,” I give my husband a nod and look in the same direction.

“You’re right!” This makes him feel better. “It’s probably too lake to back out anyway.”

Indeed it is, but not for the reasons he suspects. It’s too late because I’ve already been fucked. As he goes off to watch the useless baseball game, I turn to the counter and to the man who fucked me.

“Hello,” I greet simply.

“Oh, hello,” Richard looks up from his computer monitor to ask. “So, what’s the verdict?”

He gets right to the point. I realize the doctor hasn’t yet told him. In reply, I say nothing, only smile, and then lean forward over the counter in my low neckline blouse.

“Oh, I see,” He understands my unspoken communication perfectly. “I can hardly wait,” He says in little more than a whisper.

“Neither can I!” I agree, and then let out a sigh as I think what it will be like. Next time he won’t need to pull out at the end. He will be able to unload inside me, fill me to capacity. The five weeks since our last sexual encounter seems like a year ago. I don’t want to wait any longer.

“I suppose Dr. Palin asked you to stop by to arrange the details?” He composes himself before I do.

“Well, yes,” I weakly reply.

“Then there’s some legal forms you will need to fill out,” He turns to a file cabinet and pulls out a folder’s worth of papers. “Your husband too. Most are self explanatory. You can always call if you have any questions, or come by if you need any help in filling them out.”

He smiles as he says this, letting me know I can come by any time with questions. I wonder if he might want me to come by for other reasons too.

“I also have a few questions for you,” He gets out a second folder and opens it. It’s the same type folder the doctor used on our first visit. “I need to know about your schedule so we can arrange the treatments.”

He starts out asking a series of innocent questions about my work schedule, like when I start in the morning and when I come home at night. I work as a waitress, which makes my hours later than most. I normally leave at about 10:00 AM to serve the noon-day crowd, take my lunch break in the middle of the afternoon, and then come back at about 4:00 PM for the evening shift. He thinks this is perfect. The doctor prefers the “treatments” are evenly spaced, he tells me, twice per day, as close to 12 hours apart as possible.

“Now you can either come in here to the office, or we can come over to your house if it would make you feel more comfortable,” He suggests the first treatment in the morning, at home, and just after my husband leaves for work. He says most of the female patients prefer it at home and around familiar settings. He thinks it best if my husband isn’t around, at least at the start, and I think this is an excellent idea. The idea of a stranger coming over for the purpose of having sex sounds so dirty, but at the same time I am excited by the prospect.

“The evenings may be more difficult given your late working hours,” He sounds more pessimistic about my second fuck of the day. “How about we arrange for you to first come in here to the office? You can come in after you get done with work. Later, you may want to arrange with your partners to meet them at their place or maybe even at your own home once your husband gets accustomed to the procedure.”

I have a hard time imagining my husband ever getting accustomed to the idea of his wife getting fucked by another man. It will be difficult for me as well, the idea of going into our bedroom with another man while my husband sits in the next room.

“The office sounds good,” I tell him my preference. I am tempted to go to the apartment or house of one of the men too, which makes me wonder how many men there will be.

“Exactly how many?” I interrupt his line of questioning with one of my own. “I mean, you know, for the treatments?”

“Didn’t the doctor already tell you?” He questions back. “She wants the treatments to occur twice per day, for as many days as possible.”

“Not that!” I shake my head and smile at the prospect of what I look forward to. “I mean how many men? How many different men will there be?”

“Oh, that!” He understands. “It will be partially up to you and what traits you desire most in a male.”

He tells me the absolute minimum is five. The doctor insists on at least 5 different men, preferably in sequence, taking turns with a different man each time. More is preferred. He emphasizes the need to make it as difficult as possible to determine who the real father may be.

“And then of course you can request certain males for repeat sessions,” He adds, seemingly speaking about himself. “Or if you want, you can request a total stranger if you’re in the mood for someone new,” He offers an equally erotic alternative possibility. “We have over fifty inseminators at the moment, so we have a wide variety. You just need to keep in mind that there are other patients besides yourself, and some of the males tend to be more in demand than others.”

Fifty different men sounds like a lot. I could have a different man every night, but then I also wonder what causes the demand for some of the men to go up. I look across to Richard and wonder how much demand other women might have in him. I wonder about the demand for his long cock length, or maybe some of the patients simply like to watch him cum.

“What about you?” I can’t help but ask.

“I’m sure it could be arranged,” He seems to like this idea too. “I’m booked fairly regularly, but the doctor might want me to start. We already know each other. It would be more comfortable for you that way.”

Indeed it would be! I can’t wait to get started on him, but then I think of all the other women he must have started with too. A twinge of jealousy rises within me. It seems wrong to have sex with someone who has also been with so many other women, but then I think of the vast experience it gives him too. He could teach me so much. I could really learn from him.

“Now, back to your schedule,” He soon returns to his questionnaire after our pleasant little diversion. “When was your last menstrual period?”

He asks an intensely personal question in a perfectly calm sort of way. It initially surprises me, the personal nature of his question, but then I realize the reason he asks it. He needs to know, of course, to properly time my treatment.

“About two weeks ago,” I tell him after a short pause.

“I need a specific date,” He wants more detail. “Do you remember which day of the week it ended?”

“A Sunday,” I recall. “It was a Saturday night, and then Sunday morning I was clear.”

It feels strange to be talking to a man about such intimate affairs. It would be different if he was a medical doctor. It certainly would be a lot less uncomfortable if not for the fact he already fucked me. He has no medical training. In fact, he will be the one to administer the medical treatment.

“Then we want to start your treatments on the 22ed,” He looks at the calendar on the wall to figure it out.

The 22ed is over two weeks away, two whole weeks! I don’t want to wait so long. I would rather get started sooner, like right away, like maybe in one of the back rooms right now. My husband is enjoying the game. He would hardly notice.

And then the news turns even worse. He types something into his computer and concludes I may need to wait another whole cycle because not enough men will be available. Something about not having enough resources, he says, which really means not having the men available to stick themselves inside me.

“I really don’t want to have to wait that long,” I attempt to get on the schedule sooner.

“Neither do I,” He smiles back at me. “You were really something, you know. The best I had in a long time. I’ll have to talk to the doctor and see if she can accommodate you sooner.”

I blush with the compliment. It isn’t a normal compliment; not a compliment a girl receives every day. I certainly hope the doctor will be able to accommodate me. Two weeks will be a long time, and then four additional weeks on top of it sounds close to forever. What if my husband changes his mind in the mean time? What if he backs out? I express my worries to Richard, looking back over my shoulder to check on my husband as I do so.

“Then I most certainly will do the best I can,” He worries about my husband too. “But I can’t give any promises, not right now. Perhaps I can arrange to come over for another warm up session, like your last one, maybe while your husband is away to work.”

I think this is an excellent idea. I almost jump up and down with excitement. I want to cry out my desire for him. I hope he can come over as soon as possible, maybe even come over a couple of times.

“Now about your preferences,” He turns the page and goes on with another list of questions.

“Preferences? I don’t understand.

“Your preferences when it comes to sexual intercourse,” He explains. “The doctor prefers to make the experience as pleasurable as possible, so she likes to choose partners who are physically attracted to each other. She wants the experience to be as erotic as possible.”

He asks me about my preferences in men. Blond or brunette? Short or tall? Muscular or skinny? Even eye color. I find myself describing the man sitting in front of me. I describe my husband too. The two of them really aren’t all that much different. The exception, of course, is where it counts the most.

“Size?” He eventually asks about that too.

“Excuse me?” I take a quick glance behind me to check on my husband once again. I’m pretty sure what he refers to, but I ask to make sure.

“Cock size,” He clarifies more than necessary. “Do you prefer large cocks? Do you have a limit on size?”

I blush in response to such a personal question. “I don’t know,” I answer because I really don’t have an answer for him. “I’m not experienced, you know, with different sizes,” I admit shyly.

Richard had the biggest I ever experienced. I wonder about telling him this, but then figure he already knows. I am also reminded of how good it felt inside me. I want to ask about his size, about how long he might be, but I also am too bashful to come right out and ask it. A good girl doesn’t ask such a question to a man.

“Then what about dildos and vibrators?” He asks the question in a different way. “Have you ever used a dildo or vibrator that was too big for you? Any size that felt uncomfortable?”

I shake my head, still embarrassed. No one has ever asked me such intensely personal questions before, especially questions about the toys I might use for sex. I feel too embarrassed to give him an answer. Sex toys have never been my thing.

“I don’t really know,” I admit after a long pause. “I’ve never tested out, you know, like different sizes.”

“That would explain it,” Richard smiles at my reaction. “That would explain why you were so tight.”

My mouth opens. I am momentarily shocked by his words. He talks about how tight I was down there, about the tightness of my cunt. But then, of course, he would know, having experienced it firsthand.

“Please!” I turn even more embarrassed. “My husband,” I glance over my shoulder to check on him again.

“What about him?” He looks along with me. My husband continues to sit and watch the game. He acts oblivious to the lurid conversation I am having with this near stranger.

“I told you already,” I remind Richard in a whisper. “I never told him about our fuck.”

I hear it again, but this time it comes out of my own lips. I say it without thinking. The word escapes before I realize it, not until after I say it. He has corrupted me. Somehow saying it myself makes it sound a lot more dirty; more erotic.

“I understand,” He accepts my excuse. “But there is actually good reason why I’m asking you these questions. I don’t want you to get hurt by a male who might be too big for you. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Don’t worry,” I smile back at him. “It didn’t feel uncomfortable with you.” I think instead of how good it felt, especially the orgasms.

“That may be,” He smiles back. “But the fact remains: you were tight. You’ve got a tight little pussy, tighter than you realize.”

“Tight?” I say with wonder. “Really?”

“Really!” He confirms. “That tight cunt of yours was practically crushing my cock when I first shoved it up your hole.”

I blush with embarrassment. I never realized! I never even thought about how it might have felt for him.

“It was a good thing you were so wet,” He adds to further my embarrassment.

“And so were you,” I remind him right back, thinking about his cum covered cock and the way my long fingers were able to slip up and down with such ease.

“Which is why I asked about the large sized dildos and vibrators,” He seems hardly bothered by my lewd comments. “You’re not used to size, I could tell. I want to make sure you don’t get hurt when some of the males really go at it.”

“Me too!” I don’t want to get hurt either. He was already more intense than anyone else I have ever experienced. I wonder how much more intense it will get.

“Which is why the doctor may ask you to come by the office in advance of your treatments,” He hints at what he has in store for me. “She may need you to come in early so we can work your cunt and loosen it out a bit.”

My eyes open wide at his crude use of the word. It also excites me. I might not have to wait the two weeks.